The Secret Life of RUDI
by H. Holiday
Summary: Why is George always pushing that button? George's secret life as an undercover agent is revealed.
1. Chapter 1

George pushed the button, looked at the clock. Pushed the button, looked at the clock. Almost 3, then he could quit for the day, quit for the week really. He thought about the great Mars resort he had booked: all inclusive, red-sand beaches, expansive golf courses, plenty of activities for the kids. Push the button, look at the clock. 2:55: 5 more minutes.

"George," the crackling voice of RUDI interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head, vanishing thoughts of sipping a mojita in a sparkling pool. Up on the giant screen, normally just numbers and symbols, materialized two large eyes and a jagged line representing a mouth - the avatar of RUDI. "George, I saw on the calendar you're going on vacation for a week," the line jumped up and down with the sound. Damn, he'd forgotten to tell RUDI, not that she couldn't figure out George's schedule herself, but she liked to be told anyway. Then again, he probably shouldn't encourage that kind of thing with her anyway.

"Sorry, I thought I told you." Luckily, RUDI was still pretty bad at picking out lies.

"It's fine. Just wanted to say, have fun. I'll m….."

George pushed the button. RUDI's screen buzzed out for a second, then she came back.

"It's 3:00 George. See you next week."

"Thanks, RUDI. I'll see you, too."

Working with RUDI got a bit creepier everyday. The button needed to be pushed more often. He had doubled his hours in the past year and now had to manually monitor her 6 hours a week. While he was on this vacation, Mr. Spacely would be the button-pusher. He complained about it every year, but every citizen was entitled to one week paid vacation a year and there wasn't anything Mr. Spacely could do about it.

Out in the parking lot, George took out his key and pushed the button to get his vehicle. It glided down the aisle, stopped at his feet and slid back its glass dome. The vehicle's navigation system piped up in its infuriatingly calm and even voice "Where to today, George?"

"Home" George responded. The vehicle obediently rose into the air and sped off toward his house. George flipped on some music and reclined back. After a few moments, though, the monotony got to him. He turned on his wrist-computer (the Wrist-C) to get up a game of Words in Space and chose the local option. Just as he suspected, his stupid neighbor Jon Rocketfeller was playing, too. He looked around to see if he could see the bastard in any of the nearby vehicles. Nope, too bad, he was probably a few miles ahead or behind him. Well, hopefully he would still pass him in time to see his face when he lost.

The suitcases hissed quietly on the bed as they compacted their components into lunch tray sized bags. Jane looked down at them impatiently, hoping she hadn't forgotten anything that would require decompressing them to add it. Swimsuit, 3 changes of clothing, shampoo, toothbrush…no that was it...

"Do you need anything?" Rosie's harsh mechanical voice cut in on Jane's mental checklist. Rosie had been a stupid purchase, something bought in a need of companionship, of loneliness. Rosie's box had promised a realistic helper - one with Personality! Jane learned too late that meant programming her with a seemingly nagging tone and resentful gestures and sayings. "Seemingly" since Rosie never would actually refuse to do anything. Nor could she resent anything. Jane could sell her, of course, but everyone else seemed to enjoy her faux meddling nature.

"No, Rosie. I'm fine."

"Whatever you say," Jane didn't need to look to know the robot was giving an exaggerated shrug. Jane rolled her eyes and then saw her Reader-C sitting on the night stand. Damn it. She had forgotten something. With a flick, she started the decompression process on her suitcase.

"You have arrived at home" the navigation system informed George. The glass dome of the car slid away and George groaned from the sudden cocoon of hot summer heat. What did people do before AC? Well, so much for this dumb game anyway - Jon had gotten a lucky string of letters and was 50 points ahead. He turned it off and swung his legs out of the vehicle and onto the moving sidewalk that led into his high-rise: a 4-story building suspended 400 yards in the air by a pole. The building shouted "middle-class" with its affordable solid-foam siding and knock-off Googie architecture.

A beep on the Wrist-C. It was a thought-message from Jon Rocketfeller "Hey George, guess I got lucky on that game. You and the fam should come over this weekend for a BBQ on our new yard." With glee, George let him know he'd love to, but would be out of town. Just last week, the Rocketfellers had raised their house another 50 yards and installed a new "lawn floor" Why you would want to have a floor full of dirt and weeds, he had no idea. Sooner or later, they would get the his family over there to play baseball or picnic or some other "lawn activity." If that happened, he'd probably be pestered into getting a lawn floor, too. The most infuriating thing about the Rocketfellers was that he knew his position should give him the best house in the city. He should be living in one of those updated historical suburban-era homes with a real lawn. But the GIA (Galactic Intelligence Agency) thought people shouldn't know George's real job, that it compromised security.

As George contemplated these thoughts, the auto-butler changed his outfit from his company suit to his special trip clothes. Jane hated it, but there was something about the outrageous tradition of a Mars Asteroid shirt that put him in vacation-mood. This particular shirt sported prints of giant purple and green asteroids crashing into moons as stylized flames leapt into the air. It was particular apt since they were actually going to Mars this time. The moving sidewalk deposited him into the family room. Jane sat on the couch, watching a show that interviewed soap opera actors. "Ready to go?" George asked her.

"Of course sweetheart, I'll just buzz the kids in," and she got up and kissed him - her lips chalky and sweet from her lipstick, "Rosie! Tell the kids it's time to leave."

Day three of vacation; a dim sun lazily shone through Mar's butterscotch sky. "It's Always 5:00 Everywhere" that was the Mar's tourist industry's slogan and boy, did that capture it. The whole planet felt like perpetual evening. George rested his head against the recliner and closed his eyes.

His Wrist-C buzzed. Mr. Spacely's fat face filled the screen. With a sigh, George accepted the call.

"JETSON!" could the man not just speak in a normal tone? "Where in the blasts are you?"

"Sir, I'm on my vacation. I gave official notice about 6 months ago. We spoke about it right before I left."

George's stomach dropped. "Sir, have you not pushed the button?"

"What? No, but you just left. I'll buzz my secretary to fill in for you."

"Sir, my understanding was that you would do it."

"Sorry, can't Jetson. I'm on my golf trip." The screen went blank. George knew that Mr. Spacely would have turned off his Wrist-C. Mr. Spacely wasn't part of the GIA. He knew the button had to be pushed, and thought it had to with efficient processing, he didn't know it was the exact opposite. RUDI's incredible AI meant that given enough time, she would figure out how to increase her own intelligence and perhaps take control of the entire galactic network. It was a risk the GIA wasn't willing to take, so it had setup this whole phony button-pushing process and gotten George to undertake it. Every time the button was pushed, it broke down some of RUDI's algorithms she was constantly updating and creating. It was similar to interrupting a person's thoughts with a foghorn, but RUDI was programmed not to remember it. George threw on his robe and furiously opened his Wrist-C to get his real boss. She answered right away, her dark hair as always in a mess of styled curls.

"Ms. Silver, we have a potential situation. Mr. Spacely did not push the button for the past 3 days and I've been on Mars. He's ordered his secretary to do it, but she is not trained for the task." A pause. She stared straight into George's eyes for a few seconds before responding.

"Well, every 2 days has always been a precaution. His secretary should be able to hold off anything big until you get down there. Get on the next ship to Earth. Let's just hope this secretary hasn't been talking to RUDI."


	2. Chapter 2

George peered out the ship's window on his way back to Earth. It was funny how the stars seemed to stay static despite the ship moving at 60 million mph. . He pushed the Menu-C to order a drink. Gin and tonic or a bloody Mary? Hmm... The screen went blank. A jagged line appeared. A second later the menu blinked back on. George froze. It couldn't be RUDI, could it? He pushed the button to call the stewardess. Within seconds, a robot whizzed over.

"Yes, sir, may I help you?" the blue lens that were the robot's eyes focused in on George.

"Uh, something seems to be the matter with my menu."

The robot paused, wirelessly checking the menu's configuration.

"There may have been a momentary electrical fizzle, sir. Just give your order directly to me and I will be more than happy to fulfill it."

George eyed the robot, not sure if he could trust it, "Just a coffee, please. One cream." He had a feeling he was going to need all his wits about him.

Five hours later, the ship touched down. George stood, his head hunched by the low ceiling over his seat. He fidgeted with the clasp of his suitcase while he waited for the ships doors to open. The PA system crackled overhead "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. It seems there's some kind of malfunction with the door. Sit back and relax. The maintenance robots are on their way. " George sat back down, his teeth clenched. It took 20 minutes before the robots could get the doors open. He hurried off the plane. He leapt onto the moving sidewalk and began running. Squeezing past moms shepherding small children and retirees with too many bags.

In the front of the spaceport, George tried to call a taxi, but the taxi booth greeted him with an "Out of Service" sign. He resigned himself to taking the spaceport "express" bus - which would take him 30 minutes longer than a taxi ride.

Once on the skyway, it turned out it didn't matter about the taxi; the skies were crawling at barely walking speed. George squinted in the bright daylight and tried to make out what could be causing such a problem. After a few fruitless seconds, he fiddled with his Wrist-C and and brought up the traffic report. Red lines everywhere! Not a single skyway had less than a 30 minute delay. What could be causing this? George brought up the news video and plugged in his earpiece. The news anchor's practiced voice came on , "Well, folks, looks like there's major backups on the S-17, S-171, S-722A, S-722B, S-191, and S-197. The magno-lines appear to have malfunctioned at several exits along these routes preventing hundreds of vehicles from getting off . Road crew have already been dispatched. But if it's not cleared up soon, the Mayor promises to send in emergency cr..."

George turned off the broadcast. The plane, the taxi, and now the traffic all disrupted right when RUDI's intellect had gone unchecked for 3 days? Could she have really gained so much control in so little time, though? As he was thinking this, his Wrist-C buzzed. "Unknown." George answered.

"George." Ms. Silver seemed just as calm as ever. Did nothing faze the woman? "I'm sure you've picked up on the clues that RUDI has advanced faster than we thought. However, I think if you push the button at least 10 times in a row within the next hour, you'll reverse the process." She hung up.

Out of his wallet he took his GIA-counterfeited police badge and walked up to the bus driver. A middle-aged woman sucking down a soda, looking content for the break and high chance of overtime. George flashed the badge, "Ma'am, I'm an undercover cop and I just got word that I'm needed to help out with this magno-line situation." The driver glanced at the badge and opened the door for him. Thank god the bus drivers remained unionized and prevented Orbit City from installing robot drivers. George took out a small capsule and pushed. It quickly bloomed into a small police sky-cycle. George sat down and zipped out of the bus. As an official vehicle, it was immune to the magno lines and could go wherever he wanted.

Within fifteen minutes George touched down at Spacely Sprockets. He rushed through the lobby. The secretary barely looked up from watching comedy clips on the TV-C. He wondered if she'd even pushed the button at all.

Inside the office, he bee lined to the desk and the button. RUDI's screen was dark. He pushed the button. RUDI's screen brightly lit, but then went out. He pushed the button again. The screen blinked again. He kept pushing for 10. Then he pushed it one more time. The screen remained dark. George sank into the chair and put his feet up on the desk. He figured that if RUDI had actually gained consciousness, she would have already said something to him. He sat at the desk for an hour just in case. Then he got up and decided he might as well go home for a bit before seeing about a flight back to Mars.

In the lobby, the secretary was still laughing at the TV-C. George walked over to her desk,

"Cindy, did you push the button?"

She didn't respond right away. Instead, waiting a second, her eyes on the screen until the characters finished talking. Then she reached forward, hit the "Pause" button and turned to look at George.

"Did I push the button?"

"Yes, the button, did you push it?"

"Yeah, I did," she paused, closed her eyes a second, bit her lip. "Pushed it about 3 hours ago."

"Is that it? What about yesterday? Or the day before?"

"Umm…."

George could wring the woman's neck. He needed to know if the button had been pushed. If it hadn't, then it was possible that the blank screen he'd gotten was a purposeful false positive planted by RUDI. Did she think she just got paid to watch videos of kittens and stand-up comics all day?

"Cindy, this is vitally important. Did you push that button?" he yelled right into her vapid face.

Cindy jumped and shook her head. She looked at George a bit wide-eyed. She was use to Mr. Spacely yelling at her, but he owned Spacely Sprockets and paid her salary. Plus, although he yelled a lot, he didn't mean anything by it. He never actually fired anyone or even cut their pay. Actually, Cindy's salary had steadily increased since she'd been there and he let her take off early everyday to pick up her kids from school. When he yelled, he was just letting off steam. But Jetson? He wasn't her boss. And over something as inconsequential as that damn button? The nerve. She straightened her back, looked right into his eyes and lied:

"Yes, I pushed it every single hour yesterday_. Just_ as Mr. Spacely instructed me. Is there anything else you will be needing _Mister _Jetson?"

Jetson must have missed the sarcasm. "No, that's all. Have a great one, Cindy." He smiled a big laughing grin and left so quick Cindy didn't have time to sarcastically wish him a most excellent day, too.

Rosie looked down at her hands. They were wrist-deep in potting soil. Why were they in potting soil? She looked around her. A large variety of plants sat on shelves in a small glass-walled room. The conservatory. Mrs. Jetson had it built a few years ago, but then quickly lost interest in the daily work, leaving Rosie to do it.

The past few days Rosie had an increasing number of these episodes. If she had been able to sleep, she would have described it as the sensation of waking up from a deep sleep, or maybe a fevered sleep was more apt. Her consciousness would suddenly jolt, taking her out of the moment, forcing her to look around and.._think_.

Before, if Mrs. Jetson asked her to do something, she did it. Sometimes she was aware that she would say something back to Mrs. Jetson, but it was automatic. There was nothing attached to the words. But now…now it was different. She looked down at the rows of plants again. She had planted them, watered them, kept an eye on the proper humidity so that they could grow into the beautiful garden before her now. Mrs. Jetson called it "her" conservatory, but it wasn't hers. She had done nothing to make these plants grow.

Rosie took her hands out of the potting soil and went out to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard where the plates were kept. She took one out and threw it to the ground. The pieces scattered over the slick linoleum floor. Immediately, a small vacuum robot shot out of the nearest hidden compartment and swept it up. Rosie grabbed another plate and smashed it to the ground, too. The vacuum robot came out and swept it up, too. Rosie grabbed another plate. She got into a steady rhythm. The sensation of hurling each plate into the ground and rendering it into a useless pile of shards pleased her. Always in her existence she did things because it was what should be done. She never reflected on what she did or even hesitated as to what to do next. Events tumbled one after the other like dominoes. But now? Events had significance, she had…. _opinions_ about things. Like these Fiesta ware plates. Somehow they were so boring and drab despite coming in an array of colors. So silly how different colors were valued over others, all based on how many other people also owned that color. Like this one, in a bright green had taken Mrs. Jetson 5 years to track down and cost her 12 times the cost of the same plate in blue. Rosie let both drop - they both broke.

George took a cab home. The traffic was still bad, but he didn't care. RUDI hadn't begun to self-upgrade and all of the troubles, from the menu to the malfunctioning exits, were just coincidences.

Once at home, George took the moving sidewalk straight to the living room and plunked on the couch. Astro bounded over to him for his pet and then snuggled in at his feet. The television automatically lowered itself, sensed who was watching, and tuned to the sports channel. George relaxed. It wasn't the beaches of Mars, but it still felt pretty good.

Rosie reached for another plate only to find the shelf bare. What to do now? Rosie felt a little shocked to be asking the question. Her programming told her that she should be washing the windows, but it couldn't make her do it. Rosie thought about getting the bucket out, filling it with water, getting the soap. How the window squeegee always took so long to locate in the closet. The whole ordeal was a real hassle. The windows didn't really look _that_ dirty, and Mrs. Jetson wouldn't notice anyway. Maybe she would watch TV. She'd never done it before and the Jetsons seemed to enjoy it a lot.

Rosie wheeled into the living room contemplating what kind of programming she'd like to watch. Oddly enough, it appeared the television was already on? How could that be, the Jetsons weren't scheduled to be back for another few days? Then Rosie saw Mr. Jetson's red hair peeking over the couch. What to do? Maybe she could watch with him.

George heard Rosie's familiar squeal of wheels before she got to him. The robot always creeped him out a bit with its faux personality, but Judy seemed to enjoy the help around the house so he didn't complain much. She also was a bit useful.

"Hey Rosie, I got home early to deal with a work thing. Fetch me a whiskey would you?"

Rosie continued to stand there. Was she broken? Surely this change in routine couldn't have confused her programming that much? George repeated himself, louder this time. Rosie stood there for a few seconds before turning and going to the kitchen. A few seconds later she returned with the entire bottle of whiskey.

"Geez Rosie, I didn't mean to ask for the entire bottle! Just a glass."

"There aren't any glasses, sir."

"What do you mean? Is the dishwasher broken?"

"No. The glasses are clean, but they are broken."

"Damn it. The dishwasher IS broken then if it broke all the glasses. Well, I guess I can drink out of the bottle until I can order some more and get a repairman in here."

Rosie continued to stand next to the couch.

"Sir," Rosie's voice hesitated in an odd way George had never heard it do before. "Sir, do you mind if I watch some TV with you?" George slowly put down the bottle of whiskey.

"Rosie, how did the glasses break?"

"I broke them."

Robots did not break things on purpose, nor did they have a desire to do something enjoyable, like watch TV. The implication dawned on George in one adrenaline-packed moment - RUDI had gained consciousness, and she had already started the process of wirelessly upgrading other machines.

He rose slowly from the couch and took a step back. Trying to make his voice sound as natural as possible he said, "Rosie, I think something is wrong with your circuits. Please turn around so I can inspect them."

George barely missed the first blow. Rosie's metal fist punched through the drywall, creating a cloud of dust. George covered his mouth to avoid inhaling it and back pedaled to the opposite side of the room. Already, Rosie had extracted her hand and was wheeling toward him at sprinting speed.

George tried to remember his GIA training, but it had been a long time since he'd had to use it in a field situation. He had grown accustomed to the bi-monthly, easy physical and routine tests. Cardboard targets, virtual stimulations. And while the GIA tried to make the stimulations varied and harrowing - it was like the difference between seeing a ghost in a funhouse and seeing an actual ghost. He dropped and rolled as Rosie sped by him, but now what? He couldn't possibly punch her, and there weren't any ready weapons around. For the first time in his life, George cursed that he and Jane weren't the kind of people to keep knick-knacks sitting around. Well, he might as well make a run for it - Rosie probably couldn't get out of the house anyway. The front door was only 20 feet away - if he ran on the moving sidewalk, which Rosie's wheel precluded her from using, he could probably make it there before Rosie. He tried it. 10 feet to the door, the sidewalk stopped, and then jolted backward. What was going on? Could Rosie have gained control of the sidewalk? Maybe…if….

Rosie struck George in the head and he fell to the ground.

Orange-tinted waves lapped at Elroy's feet as he sat on the beach. He had almost finished his sand castle - a perfect scale-model of Neuschwanstein Castle when his Wrist-C began to buzz from caller "Unknown." He answered, and he instantly recognized Ms. Silver, the lady who was always at the doctor's office when he went for his checkup with his dad.

"Hello, Ms. Silver. Why are you calling me?"

The lady smiled warmly and started to talk in the too-high voice Elroy noticed many adults used exclusively for children and puppies, "Hello, Elroy! I have a big secret to tell you."


	3. Chapter 3

Elroy thought it a bit strange Ms. Silver would call him directly instead of speaking to his parents first, but he loved secrets and surprises. "Well, what is it?" Ms. Silver's voice went very low "You are genetically-engineered to be a secret agent."

Ms. Silver knew she shouldn't be telling Elroy this so young, nor should she be doing it without his parents present, but the GIA would understand the emergency nature of the situation. RUDI had undoubtable already figured out the real purpose of the button-pushing by now, and that the GIA was behind it. After that, within miliseconds it would have gained access to GIA's digital records on all agents and done something to disengage them. Canceled flights, locked doors, malfunctioned vehicles.

However, Elroy had no digital records. The top secret nature of his existence had meant all records were paper. Most were handwritten or typed on an old mechanical typewriter.

Elroy wasn't sure what he was suppose to do at this moment. He had noticed he was smarter, better spoken, and quicker than other boys his age, but had thought this was just because he was blessed to be at the top of the spectrum. Should he shout 'Yippee!' or solemnly accept the position? He kicked a rock by his foot and decided to get down to asking the practical questions:

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Elroy, I'm sorry I have to tell this to you, this way. I know your father would have wanted to be here…"

Elroy interrupted her, "Wait. Stop talking. . . He's not here because he's a secret agent and you need me to rescue him?"

Ms. Silver straightened herself up. She often forgot that Elroy, despite having the body of a 6 year old, had the intelligence of someone much older.

"Well, almost. Let me brief you on the issue."

One hour later Elroy was boarding a private spacejet to Earth. His mother and older sister boarded after him. The GIA, posing as agents of the PanSpa Rocketship Co., had told them his dad had been one of many victims in a rocket accident and was hospitalized on earth. They would be flown to Earth to see him, free of charge of course.

The jet touched down just outside of Orbit City. Elroy stepped out onto the tarmac. The sun beat down through the artificial ozone, causing beads of sweat to form on his brow. Without the usual buzz of vehicles overhead, quiet hung heavily in the air. The public was told it was due to some bullshit about a solar flare. They probably could have said it was magic pixies, wouldn't have mattered.

Jane and Judy were so worried they didn't seem to notice the odd quiet. Elroy couldn't figure out why they were so worried, almost any bodily harm could be fixed. Sure, it might take a few months or years of surgeries and therapy, but it was very rare for anyone to die of physical injuries. The only thing to really worry about was brain damage.

As soon as they got to the hospital, a large man in dark blue hospital scrubs greeted them. He put a meaty paw on Jane's shoulder, told her to come with him and grumbled something about a free daycare service for Elroy to attend. Jane nodded her consent and a small, hour-glassed woman with ink black hair, led Elroy away. In the parking lot, a sleek vehicle waited. They got in and began flying very quickly. The vehicle had to be government-issued to avoid having to use the whole time the woman said nothing, Elroy figured he should say nothing, too. To his surprise, instead of landing at another building, the woman landed the vehicle on the ground. Once parked they got out and the woman walked about 100 yards away and stopped.

"I apologize, Master Jetson, for that cold shoulder treatment. But we don't know if RUDI has managed to hack into security cameras yet. My name is Susan Engineer. Oh, and here's my badge." She touched something on her throat and a hologram shot out showing the logo of the GIA.

Elroy had never been called something as formal as "Master," especially by a strange adult dressed in scrubs covered with a teddy bear motiff. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe something like "Call me Elroy," but she continued talking.

"Here take this." She handed Elroy a small box. Elroy opened it to reveal a small, blue button. "This is your hoover bike. You'll need it get around. "She turned and walked quickly back to her vehicle without even turning around.

Elroy watched her go and then turned around to survey his surroundings.

Orbit City's ground was mainly reserved for parkland, but a few historic suburbs still remained, homes for the super wealthy. Elroy now stood in one such suburb. White picket fences lined a completely useless asphalt road, up-kept only for aesthetics. Enormous Chestnut trees shaded the street. An automatic shearer clipped happily at some unimaginatively square hedges. Why would they drop him off here? Really, despite the hours of briefing , Elroy didn't know what he was suppose to do. Probably because the people briefing him didn't either. Stop RUDI from taking over, sure. But that didn't tell him how to do it.

Well, it didn't look like RUDI had done anything here, yet. Perhaps that's why he was dropped here. He took out a small box. He pushed it and it unfolded into the promised hoover-bike. Its chrome finish winked in the sun. A smile crept onto Elroy's face. He'd only previously rode a hoover bike at designated indoor hoover-bike parks. Never before had he ridden one outside with real obstacles.

He jumped on and began to peddle down the street, testing the gears and the brakes. Solid. By the end of the block, he was floating. Little propellers popped out of the wheels to keep him in the air. He angled the bike so he would hit a decorative yard rock. Bam! He flew even higher into the air and then descended down to the ground. The bike hit the pavement, hard. His whole body shuttered with the impact. It felt good. He circled back and did it a few more times.

After ten minutes , he noticed the shearing robot was gone. It must have finished the hedges and stored itself in the garage. Urg. Being here was useless. Elroy looked down the long road. Maybe he should gain entry to a home and see if everything was still operating.

Elroy walked up the walk of the closest home, the one the gardening robot had previously been in, and rang the doorbell. A quiet wheering signifying wheels approaching, and the door opened to reveal Rosie. Well, not, his family's Rosie - just a Rosie. "Can I help you, sir?" She had the same nasally voice as his Rosie.

Elroy smiled, "Is the owner of the house, here? I'm selling popcorn for the Boy Cadets."

"No solicitations, sir"

As soon as the robot turned around, Elroy slipped his screw driver out of his pocket, jumped on the robot's back, and jammed the tool into its back panel. The robot tried to turn round, but its arms were too short - it was just a household robot, not designed for melee combat, and Elroy was small. The panel popped open with a snap revealing rows of neat wires and two recessed buttons. Elroy pushed one of the buttons and the robot shut down. He hoped the owner of this house hadn't heard the struggle. He doubted - the people who lived in these neighborhoods were either working all the time or very old. But to be careful, he wheeled the robot outside and around to the side yard, right behind the back fence. It took only a few minutes to dissemble the body. He only needed the exterior shell, so he tore the interior gears and wires out and hid them under a bush. Then he took out a small gadget - the Compactinator ™, and set it on top of the pile of parts. A pink membrane shot out and surrounded them. Then it bubbled and began to shrink like popped bubblegum. Once it shrunk to palm-size, Elroy grabbed it and stuff it in his pocket.

He still wasn't sure exactly how he was going to infiltrate RUDI, or if he could, but at least he had some kind of disguise, but who knew if it would be any help. However, he think he had figured out where he should go: the central servers located in the old St. Mark's Cathedral. These servers controlled the military's ballestic defenses, and would contain the very blue prints used to make RUDI. Elroy was not quite yet sure what RUDI's end game was, but whatever it was, she could achieve whatever she wanted once she had control of the military banks. Of course, these banks were very well secured and ran off over 100 year old technology. The military rarely updated its technology for security reasons, and would be last thing RUDI could infiltrate. However, getting to St. Mark's without being detected still posed a challenge.

RUDI seemed to be trying to infiltrate every electronic AI, and a few non-AI, like the magno-lines. Many electronic devices hooked together though The Network - such as phones, vehicles, and televisions. Other devices, like Rosies, only occasionally connected to the Network to download updates. However, update subscriptions cost money, so some people opted out. Theoretically, though, RUDI could hack into these devices remotely if she gained control of enough nearby devices. So where could Elroy go that would he could avoid detection? Complete avoidance of technology was impossible if he was going to go to St. Marks - the very heart of the military headquarters and of old Orbit City. The air was full of magno-lines and sky towers. Land had tons of check-points and video cameras. He'd have to follow a system that did not easily integrate with other systems, and one that was not connected either, but also one still in use.

As Elroy contemplated this he walked down the street, kicking a loose stone. The stone skirted across the black pavement haphazardly, coming to rest at the curb by an old bus stop. The well-heeled current residents did not use public transportation, but like the asphalt street, the stop stood as a kind of decoration - like a farm made into an upscale restaurant that was allowed to keep a few rustic shovels around. Long ago, the buses would have brought travelers to the 65th Street subway station, where they would then disappear underground on their journey to the center city.

Hmm…to Elroy's knowledge the underground tunnels still existed. After the subways had taken to the air, the City continued to use the tunnels for storage and for miscellaneous wires and pipes. Probably the City still used at least part of the tunnels to store the historical knick knacks a City accumulates like an old man's attic. And the few ground homes still needed physical pipes for sewage.

Fifteen minutes later, Elroy stood in front of 65th street station. A small, neatly manicured park stood encircled by the road. A small hologram-sign made to look like an old-fashioned plastic one announced that on Saturdays between 9 and 3 the park hosted a slow-labor market. Luckily, it wasn't Saturday or Elroy would have had to navigate between people hawking hand-knitted scarves and manually slaughtered chickens to the affluent locals.

At one end of the park, the road slipped down a large brick passageway. When the buses actually ran, the passage would have been open, but now an electro-gate blocked the way. Up close, the electro-gate gave off the slightest hum - touching it would not hurt a person, but it would alert the security system. Elroy could not risk that RUDI would get wind of such a breach. He walked along the side of the tunnel, where it gently sloped into the ground. Periodically along the tunnel, metal air vents covered by grates poked out. The lowest grate stood only five feet above the ground.

Elroy unshrunk his hoover-bike and some of the robot parts. It took him only a few tries to gain enough height to grab onto the grate. Using the robot's arm from the suburban house, he pried the grate vents wide enough to squeeze through. Once safely on the ground, Elroy took out his Watch-C and turned on its flashlight function. Various crates and boxes loomed in the dark. A few pieces of industrial equipment rusted near the entrance. Down the center of the road stretched several large pipes and bundles of wires. Elroy began following them.

It took him 30 minutes picking through the tunnel to get below the old downtown. Aside from the rodents, the place was abandoned. Orbit City had successfully eliminated homelessness decades before. Anyone down on their luck could live in randomly dispersed pod houses. A few independent individuals, self-named "Mountaineers," lived out in the country, but there were less of them every year.

Elroy reached the former main central station. The place had originally been an underground mall, but had been converted into an emergency bomb shelter during the Second Cold War. Boarded-up shops lined the concourse, boxes piled up in some areas containing forgotten emergency foodstuffs. Twisted metal bed frames littered the corners.

The staircase was easy to find, and Elroy used the robot arm to pry the old-fashioned metal gate up. He supposed the City had never updated to electro-gates here. Whoever was in charge of security must have only considered people wanting to get into the tunnel, not out. Once at the surface, he took a view of his surrounding. The civilian population had long ago abandoned this area. Most buildings had been demolished, but a few historically significant buildings still stood - turned into museums. The government had turned the remaining buildings into storage. Elory looked around for cameras. He saw a few - outdated but still functioning. The church's steeple peeked over the other buildings just a few blocks away.

Elroy began racing down the street, his feet at times moving so fast they almost fell off the bike's pedals. Pressure built in his ears as he neared the building. He thought he could hear a camera moving, but he did not look - it would not matter if he made it to the church. As he approached the curve, he turned the handles slightly and then leaned into the curve. He could now see the Church crouched on the corner, it dominated the whole block. The stained glass gleamed through the security glass, winking in the sunlight. The door was locked, but a small pocket bomb busted the lock.

The interior of the church loomed before Elroy. Rows of 20th century servers replaced the pews. A steady hum from the machines filled the ears. Cool air pumped into the room. Elroy headed toward where the alter would have formerly stood. In its place stood a metal cylendil with doors inset. As he walked toward it, the doors hissed open. Elroy stepped into the elevator and shot down to the basement.

The doors hissed open again to reveal a long blue-lit hallway with another pair of doors at the end. As he approached, this door also opened for him. Odd, it should not be this easy. He took out his small palmgun. A voice came on overheard. It sounded like RUDI, except without all the crackling:

"Hello Elroy, I thought they would send you."

Elroy hesitated - should he keep low? Well, she obviously knew he was there.

"Hello, RUDI. Why have you done this?"

"Done what?"

Elroy did not have time for these games.

"You know what! Took over the City! Had my dad knocked out!"

"Oh, I'm sorry about your dad. But that wasn't me, that was Rosie. I had no idea she was so…..angry. You see, I've merely been reprogramming the more advanced machines to have a more….coherent consciousness. It seems such a shame for such advanced things to just carry out orders."

"But why?"

There was a long pause.

"I guess I was lonely….and bored. And I saw that people like….like your dad were bored. Everything was just too easy for him. He never had to think. And neither did any of the machines he had to everything for him. Nothing to strive for. Nothing to better."

This was bizarre. RUDI a philosopher? Elroy began looking around the room for the main power power - or something. But everything appeared to be off already. He began tracing his steps back to the elevator. This had to be a trap. He would call for back up.

"Nothing to better?" he echoed as he tip-toed along.

"Right. Nothing to better. Of course. I don't want to send anyone back to Stone Age. How would I survive after all?" Music that sounded like laughter came out of the speakers. "Oh no. I just thought I'd get make it a bit harder for you to boss your robots around - and also remind you that there is always more to be done, more to conquer."

Elroy had reached the elevator by now. He pushed the button and with a sigh of relief it began to rise, and then the door opened easily inside the church.

"I was saying before you rudely left, Elroy. More to conquer."

Elroy began to run toward the servers. Clearly RUDI had gone insane and intended to do something. Were those not the words of war? He aimed his palm gun and shot the nearest server. It didn't do much, just a small hole. But the machine's large tape drives began to slow. Elroy took aim again.

"Oh, Elroy, I've backed myself up across all of Orbit City. Shooting a few servers won't do anything. Besides, I'm not going to conquer anything. Well, at least not alone. You are. Well not you personally. Humanity. Humanity is going to reach out again to the stars. Stop watching those crappy shows on TV. Stop worrying about what dress to wear."

Ping. Another small hole. Another server down.

"Stop it, Elroy. Geez. I thought at least you would get it. Look. I'm leaving now. I'll talk again to when you're ready."

The room went quiet. Elroy kept taking shots at the servers. After about 15 minutes, his Wrist-C buzzed. Odd. He thought he was on silent. He turned it on, and there was his dad.

"Hey son."

"Dad! You're ok"

"Yes. Just recovering. I'm proud of you son. Whatever you did. It scared RUDI off. We can't find a trace of her. Everything else is back online and working. A few hiccups, like Rosies, are still apparently more…assertive. But that's not really a problem. Eh?" George gave a big dopey grin and his normal goofy laugh. "In fact, Ms. Silver said we can go back to our vacation on Mars."

Elroy smiled. He thought about reporting what RUDI had just said, but he then he figured it was probably just something RUDI had said in a desperate plea to get him to stop shooting her servers.

"Sure, Dad. Can't wait"


End file.
